The Pastoral Ministry of Absence

September Creek (2018)

The Pastoral Ministry of Absence

There is a fine and thought-provoking article at CT by Stephen L. Woodworth called, “The Ministry of Absence.” In it, Pastor Woodworth uses personal anecdotes from his ministry along with insights from Henri Nouwen to encourage pastors to remember that, in the final analysis, people need God and not the minister, and that sometimes pastors should make that clear by not being as available as others might think we should be.

“Pastor, I need to meet with you.” For those of us in pastoral ministry, a week seldom passes when those words are not uttered to us. In the opinion of many, this is the central aspect of our calling: to be present when they need us. To be there when tragedy strikes, or conflict erupts, when illness descends, or heartbreak occurs. We meet with them in our offices, at hospitals, around dining room tables, or over coffee. We meet with them at all hours and on any given day. Especially for solo pastors who don’t have the luxury of sharing the pastoral load, even vacation time is interruptible as the pastor is forced to rush home in time to deal with a sudden emergency. This is an unquestionable part of the job description for many pastors, an aspect of our calling we agreed to when we first signed up for duty. But is it healthy? Or more importantly, is it biblical? I am concerned that these calls for our constant presence are often intimately connected with two inordinate needs that deserve honest questioning: our parishioners’ desire to be in the presence of a surrogate Jesus, and the desire for pastors to be one.

Woodworth quotes Nouwen from his book, The Living Reminder: Service and Prayer in Memory of Jesus Christ: “We minsters may have become so available that there is too much presence and too little absence … too much of us and too little of God and his Spirit.”

In my mind I see Jesus sleeping in the boat, while the disciples fear for their lives in the storm. “Don’t you care that we perish?” they ask him. It’s the one question I have feared more than any other as a pastor. The last thing I ever want to portray to someone — especially to someone who is hurting or afraid — is that I don’t care. But is it possible that this fear of my own has led me at times to allow others to completely define what it means to care? Have I too often merely succumbed to certain expectations without asking God for guidance in the best way to truly “help” someone? And, for my part, is it possible that I have wanted to be the Messiah, the fixer, the “surrogate Jesus,” and that my knee-jerk availability has been more about boosting my own ego than about discerning what a person might really need from God in a given situation?

The classic narrative of our time about this is Chaim Potok’s The Chosen.

In the context of the years following World War II and the Holocaust, The Chosen tells the intriguing story of the remarkably gifted Danny Saunders, son of an ultra-orthodox rabbi. Danny and his father only speak when studying the Talmud together. Otherwise, his father is strangely, completely silent toward his son. The story unfolds during an important time in the young man’s development, as he and his friend Reuven decide what they are going to do with the rest of their lives.

In the course of the novel, we come to learn why Reb Saunders decided to raise his son in this unusual and seemingly cruel way, withholding conversation and affection from him. And we discover that it was an ongoing act of fatherly love, designed to help the boy develop in ways that would not have been possible otherwise.

“Ministers do not fulfill their whole task when they witness only to God’s presence and do not tolerate the experience of his absence,” said Henri Nouwen.

Of course, Stephen Woodworth reminds us, figuring out how to best serve people is never simple and requires an immense amount of discernment. We can just as easily choose to practice absence out of bad motives and personal weakness. So he recommends that the focus always be on love — asking what will truly benefit the other person.

I constantly ask myself, What is best for this person? Will my presence distract or enhance from God’s place in this moment? Within this question lies the need for pastors to search their own hearts and motivations for going. Temptations to seek the approval of others or merely avoid conflict or disappointment are poor justifications for denying those we serve the necessary opportunity to experience the unfiltered ministry of Christ.

I am well aware of my own tendencies to be a fixer and a people-pleaser, which means I probably make myself too available at times. On the other hand, I know that I can be lazy, self-centered, and unwilling to get too involved if a situation might demand hard work or sacrifice. I can easily avoid necessary engagement.

Thanks to Stephen Woodworth for reminding me that the love I give and the way I give it must always be rooted in receiving the love and wisdom of God, who cares for me by both presence and absence.

• • •

For Further Reading

Divine Absence and the Light Inaccessible, by Fleming Rutledge

Rowan Williams on Baptism (2)

Cumberland River, KY (2015)

Rowan Williams on Baptism (2)

Today we continue our series of reflections on Rowan Williams’s book, Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer.

As we continue to hear what Williams has to say about baptism, he reminds us that, being baptized into the life of Christ, we partake of and grow into his identity. One classic way of thinking about the identity and calling of Jesus is to consider the three roles of prophet, priest, and king.

For many centuries the Church has thought of Jesus as anointed by God to live out a threefold identity: that of prophet, priest and king. The baptized person identifies with Jesus in these three ways of being human which characterize and define his unique humanity. As we grow into his life and humanity these three ways come to characterize us as well. The life of the baptized is a life of prophecy and priesthood and royalty. (p. 12)

To speak of our lives like that certainly sounds heady, but in fact, this baptismal identity works itself out in down-to-earth ways.

As those who share the life of Christ the Prophet, we “express and ask important and readily forgotten questions” (p. 14) of ourselves, the church, and the world in which we live.

As those who share the life of Christ the Priest, we “are called upon to mend shattered relationships between God and the world, through the power of Christ and his Spirit. As baptized people, we are in the business of building bridges. We are in the business, once again, of seeing situations where there is breakage, damage and disorder, and bringing into those situations the power of God in Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit in order to rebuild something” (p. 15)

As those who share the life of Christ the King, we find that our “‘royal’ calling is about how we freely engage in shaping our lives and our human environment in the direction of God’s justice, showing in our relationships and our engagement with the world something of God’s own freedom, God’s own liberty to heal and restore” (p. 16).

As we saw in our recent series on Genesis, baptism restores us to our original human vocation, which is that we should represent God in the world and live within his blessing, so that we will flourish upon the earth, take care of creation as God’s stewards, and also actively engage and overcome evil. This is exactly what Rowan Williams is saying when he says we are baptized into the life, identity, and vocation of Jesus Christ.

God created this world for shalom. Jesus came to restore shalom. Now, in his name we are baptized so that we may begin to experience his shalom in our lives and participate with God in making shalom a reality throughout the world.

We arise from the waters of baptism to be shalom-makers. And blessed are the shalom-makers, for they will be called the children of God.

Sunday with Ron Rolheiser: Sacred Work

Craftsmanship (2016)

 

Sunday with Ron Rolheiser
Sacred Work

We lack a good theology of work. Too often work is seen as something that takes us away from the God and prayer, a distraction to the spiritual life. Hard work is admitted to be a good, honest thing, but, even so, never a holy thing in itself, a gift from God so that we can be co- creators with Him.

In fact, in some theologies, work is seen as a punishment for sin, something introduced on the planet after Adam’s sin, not willed or intended by God ideally. In this view, except for sin, there would be no work.

Some of this, of course, is true. Work can be a distraction and an escape (both from God and family). It can be a rationalization against entering into the deeper things. As well, we too easily take our self-worth from our work so that we feel good about ourselves only when we are achieving something and are anxious always that, deep down, outside of our work and our achievements, we have little to offer. And so we work to try to prove ourselves and our work often becomes cancerous, something we can’t quit doing because our entire sense of self-worth is tied up with it. There are real dangers in work.

But there are dangers in everything. Work can be an excuse to avoid the deeper things, but it is also the deep, natural form of contemplation that God gives to us as humans.

We have to spend most of our waking lives working. That should tell us something, namely, that work must be the major avenue through which God wants us to journey towards the deeper things. Given the way we are built and the way life is shaped, God surely does not expect us to consciously think about Him most of our waking moments. God is not an egoistical tyrant, demanding our conscious attention, even while we are have to work long hours amidst all the heartaches, headaches, restlessness, anxieties, fears, and preoccupations that impale themselves upon us every waking minute. If God wants our conscious attention every waking minute, than there is some fatal flaw in the way we are built and the way life is set up.

But there is no fatal flaw. God is the ground of our being, the ground too of our work and our relationships. In God “we live and move and have our being.” We know God not just in our conscious awareness and in prayer, but also in a deep inchoate way, by participating with Him in building this world – by growing things, building things, carving things, creating things, cleaning things, painting things, writing things, raising children, nursing bodies, teaching others, consoling others, humouring others, struggling with others, and loving others. Work, like prayer, is a privileged way to get to know God because, when we work, we are toiling in partnership with Him.

Jesus knew well both the feel of work and of tiredness. Here’s a little meditation from Caryll Houselander:

“Christ earned his living, with the joys, exultations, fatigues of other men. Had you gone to visit his home in Nazareth you would have found him like other men, but giving a significance to ordinary things that others often fail to do. Imagine such a visit. … you have come to supper. He is putting away his tools; unconsciously he smiles at the burnish on them; you see how he loves his tools. On the floor by the bench there are wood shavings, how clean and fine they are, curled like yellow petals. What a beautiful thing work is, seen from this man’s angle! He sits down in the doorway, you with him, you notice the signs of the day’s fatigue, good fatigue that seeps out of one in the evening. He wipes his face, his eyes are a little tired, they have the intensity of eyes that use the last rays of light. Yes, he works hard. He gives good measure.”

The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: Sept. 1, 2018 — Labor Day Edition

September Fields (2014)

The IM Saturday Monks Brunch: Sept. 1, 2018 — Labor Day Edition

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, with summer’s best of weather and autumn’s best of cheer.

• Helen Hunt Jackson

For Labor Day — Some less than sanguine quotes about work…

  • Hard work never killed anybody, but why take a chance? (Edgar Bergen)
  • Work is a necessary evil to be avoided. (Mark Twain)
  • My father taught me to work; he did not teach me to love it. (Abraham Lincoln)
  • All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind. (Aristotle)
  • I always give 100% at Work: 10% Monday, 23% Tuesday, 40% Wednesday, 22% Thursday, and 5% Friday. (Unknown)
  • Sometimes I can’t figure out if I am in preschool or high school. Oh, wait. I’m at work. (Unknown)
  • It’s a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can’t eat for eight hours; he can’t drink for eight hours; he can’t make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work. (William Faulkner)

Ending the Johnson Amendment?

While some evangelicals are cheering, a group of Baptists in Missouri is opposing elimination of the so-called “Johnson Amendment.”

From Baptist News:

A moderate Baptist organization in Missouri reiterated its support for a provision in the federal tax code barring churches from endorsing or opposing political candidates that has suddenly emerged as an issue in one of the most-watched U.S. Senate races in the nation.

Churchnet —  a ministry network of 150 churches with 43,000 members also known as the Baptist General Convention of Missouri – issued a statement Aug. 26 opposing repeal of the “Johnson Amendment”…

…Churchnet, a member body of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty that last year joined a large coalition of faith groups opposing President Donald Trump’s stated goal of repealing the Johnson Amendment, says the rule is good for churches.

“The ‘Johnson Amendment’ protects house of worship from candidates seeking endorsement during a political campaign,” said Brian Ford, executive director of Churchnet. “As a life-long Baptist and ordained pastor, I can’t imagine how damaging it would be to erase this legislation for local churches across the nation.”

“As members of the Body of Christ, we are called to be in community with one another, even those we disagree with on a myriad of political and social issues,” said Ford, who has led the group started in the early 2000s since 2016. “We need to continue to live into this tension, not ramp it up.”

The Calvary Chapel Chronicles…

Chuck Smith, Calvary Chapel ocean baptism

As a product of the “Jesus People” revival in the early 1970s, I was deeply influenced from a distance by the ministry of Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, CA, and especially through the songs of Maranatha! Music.

Therefore, I appreciate Michael Newnham’s retrospective series at Phoenix Preacher about Calvary Chapel and hope you will take time to read and follow along as well. It explains how a lot of us came into evangelicalism, and it also reveals the roots of many of the problems that led us out of evangelicalism.

Here are Michael’s posts so far…

For Labor Day — Some inspiring quotes about work…

  • Your work is to discover your work and then with all your heart to give yourself to it. 
(Buddha)
  • We work to become, not to acquire. (Elbert Hubbard)
  • It is the working man who is the happy man. It is the idle man who is the miserable man. (Benjamin Franklin)
  • Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing. (Theodore Roosevelt)
  • This is the real secret of life — to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play. (Alan Wilson Watts)
  • Inspiration usually comes during work rather than before it. (Madeleine L’Engle)
  • The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. (Frederick Buechner)

I want this guy on my team…

Recently 61-year-old William Lytton took a swim off the coast of Massachusetts. Then every ocean swimmer’s nightmare happened. He found himself in the jaws of a massive shark, thought to be a great white.

Well, William Lytton wasn’t going to take this. He started punching the shark over and over again on its side, near the gills. The shark apparently wasn’t interested in such a feisty meal, so it let go its grip. Lytton made it back to the beach and was air-lifted by helicopter to a local hospital. Thus far, William Lytton has had six surgeries to repair his injuries, and there are more to come.

Now that’s a fighter.

Reminds me of another of my great maritime heroes…

Questions of the Week…

Will we ever escape 1968?

Is the Russian punk group Pussy Riot a Christian band?

What’s meat, anyway?

Why are black people still punished for their hair?

As a pastor trying to make changes, what is worth fighting for?

Will a concert spark the next “Great Awakening”?

Happy Birthday, Leonard Bernstein!

In honor of the great Leonard Bernstein’s 100th birthday on Aug. 25, and in recognition that the immigrant experience that has always been an essential and often contentious part of these United States, today we present “America” from West Side Story.

An honor to serve Senator McCain and our country…

Luke, the son of some of our best friends, had the honor of carrying Senator McCain’s body into the Capitol as a member of the Military Honor Guard.

We are so proud of Luke and are grateful that he is getting this opportunity to serve his country in such a meaningful and unforgettable way.

Jonathan Aigner — Farewell, Willow Creek: Where the “Regular” Churches Can Go From Here

Farewell, Willow Creek: Where the “Regular” Churches Can Go From Here
by Jonathan Aigner

It looks like the beginning of the end at Willow Creek. They aren’t saying that, but I feel like that’s what’s happening.

If so, good riddance.

And you can take the megachurch movement you spawned with you.

I’m sorry if I sound bitter. I’m not, really. More relieved than anything else. Saddened for the stories of abuse, gaslighting, and hero worship. Grieved by the commoditization of human hearts and souls, the theological void, and the liturgical collapse. But relieved that this sad chapter in American religious history is rattling to an end.

Stanley Hauerwas said that the church growth movement was “the death gurgle of a church that had lost its way.”

Well, one of the biggest players is dying a quick death.

It was bound to happen anyway, regardless of the specific failures of Bill Hybels and the inept, buffoonish response of the Willow Creek board.

See, the rest of us are tired. We’re tired of having to compete with the downtown destination or suburban center house of entertainment that calls itself a church. We don’t have the energy, we don’t have the resources, we don’t have the desire, but we’ve felt like we’ve had to conform. Because you were growing, and we were shrinking! We felt like we had to do something drastic.

Paranoia struck so deep in our hearts and souls that, in desperation, we cried out for your bag of tricks. So we signed up for your silly, overpriced conferences. We copied the happy, clappy dreck you dared to call worship. We tried to find a charismatic leader like yours. We tried to be a mini-Willow in our own neck of the woods. We gave up ourselves: our message, our mission, our liturgy, our identity.

No more. We’re tired. We’re disillusioned. We’re embarrassed. We’re just done.

After decades of believing churches like Willow Creek had discovered the antidote, after 25 years of copying, emulating, strategizing, and leadership conferencing, we’re finding out that we’ve built our behemoth, nondescript church buildings on the sand like the foolish people we are.

Well, Weeping Willow Creek and all others of its ilk, we’re on to you. We see the chinks in your armor, and they’re gaping open ever wider with each passing day. Another one of your empires has fallen, and others will follow soon.

We should have known all along.

Celebrity pastors cannot possibly be good shepherds to their people.

Attractional worship is only entertainment, nothing more.

A fast food version of Jesus can never be the real version of Jesus.

The church growth movement leads to a bloated, unhealthy body of people who don’t really understand what they’ve signed up for.

Capitalism does not hold the keys to evangelism.

The Pastor as CEO idea will always fail, often with far-reaching, disastrous results.

Big churches are not good role models for the rest of our churches. In fact, their methods will ruin us, too, if we’re not careful.

Though Willow Creek and those like it may crumble and fall, the church will go on. God will preserve it, and none else can stop it. We know that the cosmic renewal, redemption, and restoration has already begun, set in motion by God’s mighty acts in Jesus Christ.

But here in this culture, it must almost begin anew. The megachurch movement was nothing more than a last ditch effort to save a church created in our own image. The calling is clear: Christ must be born again within us.

So church, it’s time to rediscover your sacred, holy identity. It was never just about filling pews. Go on about the gospel that still calls to you. Go on with your liturgy. Preach the Word, administer the sacraments. Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with God, even as it become more novel, more strange, and more isolating. Spread the great and glorious news that Jesus Christ has brought into this world, even when your culture no longer gives it lip service.

After all, church, what does it proffer you if you gain thousands of butts in your seats, but give up your heart and soul?

Nothing. In fact, church, you lose, and you lose big.

Adding more campuses is not discipleship.

Hiring more staff is not church growth.

Getting more butts in the seats is not evangelism.

So free yourselves from the church growth obsession.

Free yourselves from your slavery to numbers. Free yourselves from the neurotic counting. Free yourselves from the mind-numbing, maddening task of data disaggregation. Release yourselves from the anxiety over empty pews. Realize that you don’t have to keep wondering what you will eat or drink or wear if your budgets shrink.

Remove the [obsession with church] growth.

Free yourselves from what your Americanized gospel thinks of as success, because if you don’t, you may just end up in the same boat as this giant.

Resist the temptation to use worship as a hook, a holy bait-and-switch. Because your message is sounding more and more like an unwanted, confrontational Amway spiel. It sounds like you want people in your services because you’ve got some property for sale somewhere that’s too good to be true.

Free yourselves for the higher calling of the Gospel of Christ. Be who you are called to be. Stop counting. Stop strategizing. Jesus promises that he is engaging enough, even though the most numerically successful churches claim otherwise.

Maybe it’s time we stop trying to top him, and just take him at his word.

• • •

Jonathan blogs at Ponder Anew.

What Killed Off the Dinosaurs?

What Killed Off the Dinosaurs?

The Atlantic has an article about the cause of the dinosaur extinction at the end of the Cretaceous Period, 66 million years ago and the raucous debate within geological circles.  Overall it’s a pretty good article, mostly addressed to laymen, and doesn’t get too scientific.  And let’s face it, dinosaurs are darn interesting—they’re big (the apatosaurus were the biggest land animal ever to walk the earth), scary (who didn’t shudder at the T-Rex scene in Jurassic Park), and have captivated imaginations since… well since we figured out what those skeletons represented.  I remember, as a child, my father taking me to the Chicago Museum of Natural History and standing in front of the T-Rex display—utterly fascinated—its part of the reason I am a geologist.

And they’re all gone (except for birds, but that is a post for another time)—long gone—disappointingly gone—so much so that the rumors of a dinosaur surviving still circulate: mokele-mbembe anyone?   The Atlantic casts the debate among geologists (not pseudo-geologists that think dinos died in Noah’s flood) as a David-Goliath battle (speaking of the Bible) between plucky Gerta Keller and her small merry band of volcanists and the disciples (minions?) of Luis Alvarez, the IMPACTERS (duh, duh, duh, duuuuuhhhh).  Sorry, but I’m only moderately exaggerating the melodrama the Atlantic article tries to make of the dispute.

As the article says:

Before the asteroid hypothesis took hold, researchers had proposed other, similarly bizarre explanations for the dinosaurs’ demise: gluttony, protracted food poisoning, terminal chastity, acute stupidity, even Paleo-weltschmerz—death by boredom. These theories fell by the wayside when, in 1980, the Nobel Prize–winning physicist Luis Alvarez and three colleagues from UC Berkeley announced a discovery in the journal Science. They had found iridium—a hard, silver-gray element that lurks in the bowels of planets, including ours—deposited all over the world at approximately the same time that, according to the fossil record, creatures were dying en masse. Mystery solved: An asteroid had crashed into the Earth, spewing iridium and pulverized rock dust around the globe and wiping out most life forms.

 

Gerta Keller

Keller, a 73-year-old paleontology and geology professor at Princeton University, instead has proposed that a major volcanic eruption in Western India in the area known as the Deccan Traps was responsible for the disappearance, some 66 million years ago, of the dinosaurs.  The Atlantic paints the dispute as nasty and vicious—with geologists on both sides hurling insults and trying to ruin each other’s academic careers.

It all makes for a fine story, well told by the Atlantic writer, and captivating to read.  I have a few observations I’d like to make.

Observation #1:  This is no way to conduct scientific debate, and I think there is an undercurrent of smug satisfaction by the Atlantic writer that scientists are just like everybody else—prideful, petty, turf-protecting, and sometimes just downright mean.  Why this seems to come as a surprise to anybody is a surprise to me.  Scientists are human and can be counted on to act like… well… humans.  There does seem to be a certain schadenfreude in the Atlantic’s tone that the scientists are acting like… uh… politicians, but to be fair to the Atlantic, a lot of science these days does seem to be politicized.  Also, to a large extent, this debate takes place in academia, and like a dear late friend of mine who was a university professor often told me, academia has THE pettiest politics of anything including politics. Still, I’m an old-fashioned guy, so I have to say to the parties in this debate: knock it off—you’re making us geologists look bad, you should be ashamed of yourselves.  There is no excuse for anybody to call Gerta Keller a bitch, none whatsoever!

Observation #2:  No event of historical geology can ever be proved.  It is all inductive reasoning of the remaining physical evidence to the most probable conclusion.  To quote from the article:

Deccan Traps

The impact theory provided an elegant solution to a prehistoric puzzle, and its steady march from hypothesis to fact offered a heartwarming story about the integrity of the scientific method. “This is nearly as close to a certainty as one can get in science,” a planetary-science professor told Time magazine in an article on the crater’s discovery. In the years since, impacters say they have come even closer to total certainty. “I would argue that the hypothesis has reached the level of the evolution hypothesis,” says Sean Gulick, a research professor at the University of Texas at Austin who studies the Chicxulub crater. “We have it nailed down, the case is closed,” Buck Sharpton, a geologist and scientist emeritus at the Lunar and Planetary Institute, has said.

Really, this is so disappointing if these guys are being quoted accurately—they are talking like idiots.  They really should know better than to make statements like “nearly as close to a certainty” and “case closed”.  The case is NEVER closed.  More evidence is discovered and the explanation MUST be changed.  The conclusions of science are always provisional, especially about events in the distant past.

Observation #3:  Neither cause being advocated for is necessarily an “either-or” situation.  There is no reason it couldn’t be “both-and”.  The article notes this:

Some scientists have attempted to find a middle ground between the two camps. A team at UC Berkeley, headed by Renne, has recently incorporated volcanism into the asteroid theory, proposing that Chicxulub’s collision unleashed earthquakes that in turn triggered Deccan’s most destructive pulses. But Keller rejects this hypothesis. “It’s impossible,” she told me. “They are trying to save the impact theory by modifying it.”

But then seems to pooh-pooh it, as if “you had better pick a side and stick to it”.  That is ridiculous, and Keller does herself a disservice by rejecting the “both-and” hypothesis.  Modifying a theory based on new evidence is what scientists SHOULD do.  I will go out on a limb here, and make a prediction—the continual gathering of evidence will eventually support a “both-and” hypothesis.  The critical issue, you might have noted, is really timing.  What was the timeline of the extinction event?  When did it begin, when did it accelerate, and when did it end?  How close can you correlate the asteroids impact to the extinction event?  How close can you correlate the volcanic eruptions to the extinction event?  Keller thinks she has evidence the asteroid hit 200,000 years before the extinction event started, while recent work by Renne places the impact within 32,000 years.  Please note that a 5% error bar, very reasonable for this type of work, is 3,300,000 years for 66 million years.  Maybe Klasie could weigh in on that remarkably high precision geochronology of 40Ar/39Ar dating, I don’t have the chops to critique it.

It has been pretty well established there have been 5 mass extinction events in the earth’s past.  They were:

  1. 445 Million Years Ago – End of the Ordovician Period – 57% of all genera – most likely culprit: climate change.
  2. 370 Million Years Ago – Late Devonian Period – 70% of all marine species died off – oxygen depletion and global cooling.
  3. 250 Million Years Ago – End of the Permian Period – the worst, some estimate 96% of all species died out – super volcanos in Siberia the main cause.
  4. 200 Million Years Ago – End of the Triassic Period – 1/5th of all families of marine life were killed – most likely cause the eruption of the Central Atlantic magmatic province.
  5. 66 Million Years Ago – End of the Cretaceous Period – 76% of all living things on Earth- big rock from space and/or super volcanos in India.

The Atlantic plays up the idea, embraced by Keller, that we are at the beginning of the 6th Extinction Event, this one man-made.  It’s an intriguing idea, because, aside from climate change, some 322 species have gone extinct in the last 500 years due to man, with two-thirds of those occurring in the last two centuries due to habitat loss or over-hunting/fishing.  According to a review published on May 29 in the journal Science, current extinction rates are up to a thousand times higher than they would be if people weren’t in the picture.  So, how about it, are we going to be the cause of our own demise?  Are we ourselves, the four horseman of the apocalypse?  Would God permit us to destroy ourselves?  After all, it would the SIXTH extinction, six being the number of a man (Revelation 13:18).

Another Look: I Can’t Get No…

Phoenix (2015)

Another Look: I Can’t Get No…

I was perusing the IM Archives the other day and came across a post I wrote a few years ago. It was simple and short, based on a sentence by Dallas Willard I had read in a book on spiritual formation. I didn’t know what to make of it then, but it arrested me.

Well, the sentence got my attention again today.

Here are Willard’s words:

“It is spiritually formative to be dissatisfied and unable to resolve it.”

Hmm. Read that again. Slowly. Again.

Now let’s talk.

My first thought is, I am not sure I have ever been anything other than “dissatisfied.” How about you? For people my age, dissatisfaction, restlessness, and ennui came as natural as breathing. Were these ingredients in the bottles our mothers fed us, we members of the Baby Boom generation?

The Stones sang our generation’s chorus back in the early 1960’s — “I can’t get no… I can’t get no…” No satisfaction. The thought still reverberates within me some fifty years later.

Realistically, could anyone with half a brain look back on the tumultuous twentieth century and not be dissatisfied? Those of us born in the post-war era wondered how in the hell the shallow peace and prosperity of suburbia (which we nevertheless enjoyed, by the way — we are hypocrites just like everyone else) could blind us to the record of interminable blood lust, injustice, and corruption that was presented as a “century of progress.” Idealists all, we could see through those who called us to settle for the kind of satisfaction you could buy in a store or receive from an “authority.” We wore our dissatisfaction as a badge of honor, a mark of authenticity. We knew how to get real, man.

It’s been 50 years since 1968, that most tumultuous of years. Then I look at the year we’re having now and realize not much has changed.

On a personal level, as a sinner-saint, a Christian who views the cross and Jesus’ call to carry it seriously, I’ve never been “satisfied.” Instead, I feel a sense of wanderlust, a hunger, what I hope is a “holy” dissatisfaction, a sign of burgeoning life within. I’m not content to be where I am; I want to go forward, to “follow” in response to grace’s invitation and provision.

At some times, moreover, as an introvert and a pessimist prone to depression, my dissatisfaction is pervasive, touching the prosaic details of my utterly human life. I am not happy when I’m alone. I am not happy with my family. Food doesn’t satisfy. There’s nothing to watch on TV. I don’t feel like reading anything. Nothing sounds fun or inviting. I just don’t like life in those moments and I may or may not be able to tell you why. Those are the times when I’m glad Jesus loves unhappy grouches, but even that is not a thought that brings much relief or satisfaction. I’m stuck in a querulous rut.

Most of my dissatisfaction is about me. I can’t stop “shoulding” on myself. I should lose weight. I should take more walks. I should use my time better. I should order my daily life and schedule more wisely. I should pay more attention to my wife. I should have a more disciplined prayer life. I should remember birthdays and anniversaries. I should eat healthier. I should clean up my clutter. The list is endless.

I should…

I should…

I should…

I envy those souls that seem to be content, their hearts and minds at rest, peacefully enjoying ordered lives. I have moments like that. Then my alarm goes off.

Some people just seem so damn responsible and fulfilled. They planned their lives, and somehow it’s working out. They built the nest egg, paid for the kids’ college, have the cabin at the lake or in the mountains, go away to the beach on Spring Break and come back all tanned, send out the glowing Christmas letter. They seem to have safely and successfully negotiated whatever minefields they faced with little trouble. Life is good.

It’s almost like they don’t even need Jesus. [Editor’s note: joke]

I can hear some of them saying, “Well of course we went through some tough times when we didn’t have much. But we worked hard and stuck to it and, with God’s help, it panned out.”

But it’s difficult for me to imagine any of them saying, “Yes, it’s good to be hungry. It’s good to be dissatisfied. It’s good to be at a place where you don’t have the answers, where you can’t solve your problems and satisfy the longing within.” Or if they do, they say it as a prelude to some subtle prosperity gospel message that proclaims (by faith) these negative experiences are good because they teach us to trust God, and when we do that, he blesses us.

On the other hand, when someone who is struggling with life says it’s good to be in the place of disorientation and dissatisfaction, it sounds like he is playing the victim card, like he’s making excuses for having little to show for the slipshod life he has lived, and claiming helplessness when it’s really just that he’s not willing to give proper attention and put forth the effort.

That’s the conservative, common-sense Midwest moralist in me speaking. That part of me continues to insist that everyone can and should seek satisfaction, that it is achievable, that we can do something to make it happen. Is not “the pursuit of happiness” in our very DNA?

But if you read Willard’s sentence again — “It is spiritually formative to be dissatisfied and unable to resolve it.” — you will find that he is suggesting something as countercultural as the wisdom of the Desert Fathers.

He is not saying dissatisfaction is a good place to be because of how it helps you in the long run, or because of the lessons you learn from it, or because God will use it to bring you to a better place. No, he is saying it’s good to be there and to stay there, being unable to figure it out or change it. 

It’s not good to be in the darkness because it leads you to the light. It’s good to be in the dark. Period.

It’s not good to be in the wilderness because that’s how God leads you to the Promised Land. No, it’s just good to be in the wilderness! It’s good to make your bed on the desert sand night after night and wake up to the same old manna next day.

What forms us is not discovering the “answer.” What forms us is living wholly within the questions.

Qoheleth is a biblical character who gained wisdom by facing dissatisfaction and realizing he could not resolve it:

All things are wearisome;
more than one can express
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
or the ear filled with hearing.

– Ecclesiastes 1:8

But many Christians avoid Ecclesiastes, not grasping how important it is to stare life squarely in the face and see it as it really is. Despite appearances, we cannot master or control it, and whatever “success” we experience (a blessing of God for which to be grateful, to be sure) is only temporary.

Regardless of how we live, we all end up six feet under and, within the relatively short span of a few generations, largely forgotten.

The work we do just gets passed on to others when we’re gone, and who knows what they will make of it?

None of us can ever truly see the “big picture” accurately and figure out “what it all means.” We may think there are transcendent reasons for the things that happen, but these are never clear to us and always subject to a variety of interpretations.

“It is spiritually formative to be dissatisfied and unable to resolve it.” Not only does living in the questions and refusing to insist upon answers form us, it also gives us credibility among others who don’t share the faith. We don’t defend Jesus or improve his reputation with those around us by making air-tight arguments, but by showing them that a person can be okay in a wilderness without satisfaction.

Peter Rollins says this will increasingly need to be the Church’s stance in a post-Christian, post-modern world. I think he says it well:

In short, the emerging community must endeavor to be a question rather than an answer and an aroma rather than food. It must seek to offer an approach that enables the people of God to become the parable, aroma and salt of God in the world, helping to form a space where God can give of God. For too long the Church has been seen as an oasis in the desert — offering water to those who are thirsty. In contrast, the emerging community appears more as a desert in the oasis of life, offering silence, space and desolation amidst the sickly nourishment of Western capitalism. It is in this desert, as we wander together as nomads, that God is to be found. For it is here that we are nourished by our hunger.

How (Not) to Speak of God

Rowan Williams on Baptism (1)

Cumberland Falls KY (2015)

Rowan Williams on Baptism (1)

Today we begin a series of reflections on Rowan Williams’s book, Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer.

My congregation celebrated its 180th anniversary yesterday. That’s quite a historical legacy. When I serve as interim pastor this winter, I’ve been thinking about doing some preaching and teaching that goes back to the basics of what it means to be a Christian and part of a Christian community. I think this book will provide a good place to start my preparation studies.

Rowan Williams is a Welsh Anglican bishop who served as the Archbishop of Canterbury from 2002-2012. In this book, taken from a series of talks at Canterbury Cathedral, he discusses a “few simple and recognizable things that make you realize that you are part of a Christian community.” The four fundamental elements he talks about are baptism, the Bible, the Eucharist, and prayer.

We begin today with some beginning reflections about baptism.

• • •

So baptism means being with Jesus ‘in the depths’: the depths of human need, including the depths of our own selves in their need – but also in the depths of God’s love; in the depths where the Spirit is re-creating and refreshing human life as God meant it to be. (p. 5)

Christians have always marked the beginning of the new life in Christ with the rite of baptism. Rowan Williams discusses some of the biblical background for this. The first Christians recalled Jesus speaking about the baptism he was to undergo at his death, and so baptism became associated with “going down into the darkness of Jesus’ suffering and death” (p. 2).

Furthermore, additional reflection saw links with the story of creation, when the Spirit hovered over the original watery chaos and brought forth order and life. Baptism = new creation, new life. Christians in the East portrayed the chaos in their icons by portraying Jesus in water filled with images of demonic river gods. Up and out of the chaos, Jesus is anointed by the Spirit and declared God’s beloved Son.

So it is not surprising that as the Church reflected on what baptism means, it came to view it as a kind of restoration of what it is to be truly human. To be baptized is to recover the humanity that God first intended. What did God intend? He intended that human beings should grow into such love for him and such confidence in him that they could rightly be called God’s sons and daughters. Human beings have let go of that identity, abandoned it, forgotten it or corrupted it. And when Jesus arrives on the scene he restores humanity to where it should be. But that in itself means that Jesus, as he restores humanity ‘from within’ (so to speak), has to come down into the chaos of our human world. Jesus has to come down fully to our level, to where things are shapeless and meaningless, in a state of vulnerability and unprotectedness, if real humanity is to come to birth. (pp. 3-4)

In his baptism, then, Jesus was immersed both into the world of deathly powers, but also into the affirming love and calling of God.

And so, Williams reasons, the person who is baptized takes his place with Jesus — deeply in touch with the chaos of the suffering world all around, and also awake to the chaos within his own heart. In a striking quote, Williams reminds us that being baptized does not separate us from the world around us, but plunges us more deeply into its need:

To be able to say, ‘I’m baptized’ is not to claim an extra dignity, let alone a sort of privilege that keeps you separate from and superior to the rest of the human race, but to claim a new level of solidarity with other people. (pp. 5-6)

Yes, in baptism we are washed and made new. But this happens by taking our place in the muddy waters where we identify with the chaos within and around us.

Yet this is but one side of the story. Jesus came up out of the water and heard the Father’s voice, saw the descending Holy Spirit, felt the embrace of divine love.

So what else do you expect to see in the baptized? An openness to human need, but also a corresponding openness to the Holy Spirit. In the life of baptized people, there is a constant rediscovering, re-enacting of the Father’s embrace of Jesus in the Holy Spirit. The baptized person is not only in the middle of human suffering and muddle but in the middle of the love and delight of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. (p. 7)

To be baptized, then, is to enter the depths of human life as it was meant to be: immersed in the world’s pain, embraced by God through his loving Spirit.

Monday with Michael Spencer: How to Talk (and Not to Talk) to Evangelicals on a Journey

Morning Path from Gethsemani (2017)

Monday with Michael Spencer
How to Talk (and Not to Talk) to Evangelicals on a Journey
From 2009

Dear Well-Meaning Non-Evangelical Friend,

Please sit down, have a cup of tea or coffee…and listen.

I see that you’ve responded to some of us who are pilgrims in the evangelical community and who are on a journey within and perhaps beyond evangelicalism. You’ve offered up some “help” in the form of advice, comments, explanations and so forth.

If possible, I’d like to encourage you to consider a few matters that could prove useful to our shared ultimate goal of knowing the Trinitarian God and following Jesus.

1. It’s possible you may be able to claim a few of us for your particular church by arguing with us over the specifics of doctrine. There are some among us who are in the mood to be convinced. But you are making a mistake, in my view, in regard to most of us with this approach. Your assumption that we need to be battered with the clubs of better logic and more knowledge is not the pleasant experience you apparently remember it to be. Let us have a process that operates under our terms and with our perception of the leadership of the Holy Spirit. If this is an episode of Bounty Hunter, tell us.

2. If you are delighted to have laid down all your doubts and questions at the feed of the LCMS, the RCC or EO, that’s wonderful. Again, don’t assume that’s our journey or will be. There are many ways for persons like ourselves to appropriate and experience your tradition without joining. There is considerable evidence that a continual trail of “joining,” is not what many of us are looking for at all, as we have seen that in more than a few of our number, with less than impressive results.

3. Many of us share a suspicion that the submission of mind and curiosity to a specific authority or tradition may not be as easy for us as it has been for you. It is not a characteristic we all share when it comes to human traditions and institutions. Many of us can safely say we will never pray to Mary, believe in purgatory or practice closed communion. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t still on this journey. Louder announcements of circular authority claims have a similar problem. Your (or our) decisions to accept claims of a “pure Gospel” or an “infallible authority” don’t qualify as “pure” or “infallible” for many of us.

4. Our heroes in this journey are not always converts. They are often evangelicals who remained evangelicals or pilgrims who kept moving and never settled. We may find a “half-way house” in Anglicanism or the ELCA and stay there. We are not as interested in being the trophies of a tradition as we are in seeing some aspect of Christ that we can only see through something your tradition has preserved for us.

5. We are not fools when it comes to the Eucharist (or baptism.) We’re not looking at the obvious and refusing to see. Explain us as you wish, but we see what we see (and vice versa) for reasons that are a mixture of influence, environment, authority, education, exposure and consideration. There is nothing quite so frustrating as to be read, for the 500th time for many of us, the plain statements of scripture that have divided Christians for centuries, and to do so as if we’ve just never actually paid attention to what Jesus says in John 6. It’s a habit that should never appear in a discussion among friends. Take it for granted that we have examined the scriptures many, many times and will continue to do so.

6. Answer our questions as real questions, not as invitations to evangelize us.

7. Should we be wrong about your tradition in some statement we make, correct us with grace and a recognition that we are understandably at a disadvantage.

8. What was the answer to your journey is not going to be the answer to our own. If you send us a collection of convert essays to create conversion envy, or if you take a small move on our part as a sign that we are ready to sign up, you’ve misjudged.

9. What we value as good in our tradition- evangelism, missions, church-planting, preaching, singing, etc.- we are not likely to abandon for your version of the same thing without some lamentation and complaint. Whatever we take from you, realize that those of us who value where we’ve been and what God has done in our life in the past respect what formed us.

10. I learned long ago that two people may fight one another, but attack one of them and both will turn on you. We may be severe on our own evangelical tradition, but don’t assume that means we are ready to join you in your criticism of the same. That may be unfair, but it’s very human.

Thanks for listening,

Michael